


Magic & Knives

by lostwithoutmyanchor (mysourwolf)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, M/M, Magic Shop, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Murder Husbands, mild description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysourwolf/pseuds/lostwithoutmyanchor
Summary: Usually, Stiles didn’t get many customers in his shop.  But one day he got a very interesting visitor indeed.OrSomeone was trying to kill Peter's family. He was desperate to find out who and the resident witch was his last resort.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 34
Kudos: 446





	Magic & Knives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Triscuits (TriscuitsandSoup)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriscuitsandSoup/gifts).



> This is a gift for my lovely friend Sif!  
> ==========================  
> Do not copy/post this work to another site!  
> ==========================  
> Not beta-read!

Usually, Stiles didn’t get many customers in his shop. His little used book store/magic shop is nestled between an old laundromat and an antiques store. Most of his customers were people running out of reading material while they were waiting for their laundry to be done. The shop had been closed for a few years after his mother’s death but the moment he graduated from high school, Stiles had opened it up again. Thankfully the building had belonged to his mother and now to him.

The low turnout should be surprising in a town like Beacon Hills that had many supernatural residents but many of the locals didn’t like witch magic. They thought it was just show and tricks, not like the ‘real’ spirit stuff the emissaries were doing. Stiles just shrugged their attitude off and didn’t really care. 

Most of his profit came from online clients anyway. Either people who were looking for a rare book, magical or mundane, or just someone who wanted a charm or spell done. He had a kick-ass website that offered many charms, amulettes and even potions, and business was never slow ever since he had gone online. It was a lot of work on top of online-college but Stiles was happy keeping busy.

So, when on a standard slow day the door to the shop banged open, Stiles jerked up from where he was hunched over the desk in the back room, creating a protection charm. Running a hand through his hair, he got up and stumbled around a bookshelf that had been set up for privacy. Then he stopped short and stared at the man standing in his shop. 

Peter Hale. Peter Hale in a tight, white v-neck shirt, dark blue jeans and boots. The simple but expensive brand outfit and the perfectly styled hair looked very out of place in the dusty, little shop and Stiles was immediately curious why Peter was here. Of course he knew who Peter was. And Peter probably knew who Stiles was, too. But they had never interacted before. Usually when Stiles encountered a Hale, they pointedly ignored him. Which was totally fine but Stiles. He really didn’t need any werewolves up in his business. But here he was. Literally in Stiles' business. 

Raising an eyebrow, Stiles just stared at him while Peter was looking around. Then his eyes landed on Stiles and he grimaced slightly. Stiles pressed his lips together and was about to give him some piece of his mind but then Peter blurted, “Someone is trying to kill my family.” 

“Can’t imagine why,” Stiles said drily. 

Severely pissed off, Hale looked like he was going to wolf-out right then and there so Stiles rolled his eyes and decided to let him off the hook. “What do you need?”

Hale deflated. “I don’t know,” he replied, sounding frustrated. He started to listlessly walk around the shop, eyes roaming over the books and the little magic-looking trinkets that were on offer.

“Do you know who it is?”

Growling, Hale turned around again. “If I knew, I didn’t need to come here.”

“Jeez, I’m just trying to get an idea of what’s happening,” Stiles replied and held up his hands. 

Turning around, he waved Hale to follow and stepped through a curtain made of flannel fabric into the back room. There he took out a bowl and a little flask with rain water, setting it on a small table before taking a seat. Hale had followed him and gracefully slipped onto the chair opposite him. 

Stiles poured the rain water from the flask into the bowl and then lowered the tips of his fingers into the water. Peter stared at him incredulously but Stiles just rolled his eyes. “Dude, I know how it looks but cliches exist for a reason. Now put your claws in here, wolfman.”

“Fine, witchboy,” Peter snarled and with a disgruntled sigh he dipped his fingers into the water.

Closing his eyes, Stiles let his mind wander, building up the connection to Peter and through him to the Hale family. Eventually a picture formed and he grimaced visibly.

“What? What is it?” Peter hissed when he saw Stiles’ face. But he just shook his head and tried getting a closer look. There were two… beings and it was difficult to get a grasp on them. One looked half-dead and the other one was blinking in and out of existence. Stiles shifted his hands to lightly touch Peter’s fingers in the water, deepening the connection. With some effort he moved his mind further into the picture and finally realized what he was seeing. Pulling back quickly, he opened his eyes, shook out his hands and went into a full body shiver. 

“Ugh, that was disgusting,” he stated and wiped his hands on his jeans. 

“What did you see?” Peter nearly shouted.

“Jeez, for someone who didn’t seem to believe in it at first you’re quite demanding.”

“Stiles!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles held up his hands. “So, the people wanting to kill your family are the rotten man and the empty woman.”

“Who?” Peter looked like he was going to claw Stiles’ face off.

“Gerard and Kate Argent.”

Peter’s face shifted into beta and his hands on the table grew claws. “I knew it! I knew that son of a bitch wouldn’t respect our treaty.”

Stiles just nodded. It didn’t sound like something Argents would do.

Jumping up, Peter started to pace. Eventually he spun around to face Stiles. “Why did you call them that?”

“Because Gerard’s soul is rotten and Kate’s empty,” Stiles explained and shuddered again. 

“How poetic,” Peter stated flatly. 

Snorting, Stiles stood up, stretching. “So, is that all or do you need anything else?”

Peter shifted back, looking human again and deceptively calm. “I’m going to kill them.”

Stiles yelped. “Dude, don’t tell me that. Sheriff’s son, remember?”

“Oh, please.” Peter scoffed. “As if you never killed anyone.”

“If I did I sure as shit didn’t tell anyone,” Stiles replied indignantly. “Anyway, if you don’t want to start an outright war you might want to avoid using these.” He held up his hands, curling his fingers to mimic claws.

“I’m certainly not using a gun.” 

Rolling his eyes once again, Stiles turned to the side, opening a tall cupboard. “Dude, you’re literally in a magic shop.”

“Stop calling me dude. And as a werewolf the magic I can use is very limited.”

“I know but you can use these bad boys.” He pulled out a glass cookie jar filled with little balls in all colors. 

Curious, Peter stepped closer, looking into the jar. “What are they for?”  
“Paralysis. Make sure one of these touches their skin and boom, paralyzed.” Stiles paused and then suddenly grinned wickedly. “Obviously you should be wearing gloves. I’m sure you have some nice ones. Leather must look great on you.”

“It does,” Peter said haughtily. Then he started to look pensive. “It could work. Once they’re down I could introduce them to my knife collection.”

“Ooh, knives! I like knives!” Stiles said excitedly. 

This time Peter rolled his eyes. “Maybe I’ll introduce you to them as well one day.”

“I’d love that.” Stiles didn’t seem bothered by the potential double meaning. 

“Of course you would.” Shaking his head at him, Peter seemed amused. And much more relaxed now that he had a plan. Stiles liked that look on him. Actually, he realized, he liked to look _at_ him. Licking his lips, he let his gaze roam over Peter shamelessly. Suddenly Peter put a finger under Stiles' chin and pushed upwards, closing his mouth. “Stop ogling me, sweetness. I have to go now but I will be back," he promised and gestured to the jar. "I’m taking ten of these. What do I owe you?”

Stiles filled ten balls into a smaller jar. Then he closed the cookie jar and waved Peter to follow him through the curtain into the main room. He quickly put the prices for the balls and the scrying into the register and handed Peter the receipt. 

“Four your troubles,” Peter said smoothly and went to hand him a few hundred dollar bills.

Jerking his hands away, Stiles squaked. “Dude! No way! I’m not taking any more money than on this bill. You think I want to be suspected for blackmail to keep your little murder scheme to myself?” 

“Really? That’s where you draw the line?” Peter asked, amused. “And don’t call me… oh, nevermind.” He laid down the correct amount of money and gave Stiles a two-finger-salute. Stiles suddenly noticed how nice his hands were. Broad with thick fingers. Swallowing thickly, he tried not to blush. But Peter tapped his nose and gave him a toothy grin before he turned around to leave.

“Have a pleasant evening,” Stiles called after him when he walked out of the door.

Peter gave him a quick wink over his shoulder. “You too, witchboy.” And with that he was gone.

><><

Stiles was magic, sure. But he was never really clairvoyant. At least not without any props like scrying water and the likes. So he had no idea why on the same night he had sold his para-balls to Peter Hale, he had shot up in bed, wide awake, just knowing that in that very moment somewhere someone was being eviscerated. It had kept him up for a little while but when he hadn’t gotten anything else, he had quickly fallen asleep again. 

He had put it down as a one-time incident but a few days later he had a similar feeling again. While he was sorting through the scented candle display, he suddenly felt certain that someone was coming in any moment now. With a pleasant customer smile on his face he turned around to the front door. A moment later it opened and Peter Hale stepped inside.

“Hello there, witchboy,” Peter greeted him and Stiles’ smile bloomed into a real one.

“Hey there, wolfman.” Stiles stepped closer to him, his smile slowly turning predatory. “You know,” he said slowly, backing Peter against the front door. “I saw the crime scene photos. Gotta say, a true work of art.”

“What can I say?” Peter asked playfully, his hands settling on Stiles’ hips. “I have a natural talent.”

Stiles reached up to grab the back of Peter’s neck, pouting. “Really? You came up with it all by yourself?”

“Fine.” Peter grinned, pulling Stiles closer. “I had some ingenious inspiration from a cute, little witchboy.”

Snorting, Stiles leaned in. “Trust me, nothing about me is little.” Then he kissed Peter hard.

Peter laughed against his lips but quickly fell into the kiss, his hands gripping Stiles even tighter. 

They kissed feverishly until they had to pull back, gasping for breath. 

“Anyway, should we take this somewhere more comfortable?” Stiles asked, his face pleasantly blushed.

“Lead the way, witchboy.”

FIN


End file.
